Fun In the Company SUV
by Entwife Incognito
Summary: So many opportunities for expressing new love! Call it quickie, call it tryst-it's hot and fast, but sometimes even a little transcendent. 1-shot, AU, OOC, whatever. Summer. Hiatus. Survival. Warning! This story has strong sexual content. If you don't like that stuff, do not read this! Disclaimer: I own nothing about The Mentalist. I just love taking Lisbon & Jane for a spin.


Lisbon guided the agency SUV expertly down the dusty country lane, enjoying the dappled light as they passed under the trees. True, they were leaving a crime scene where a grisly murder had taken place, but that was behind them now. Fresh air, flowing like a cleansing river through the open windows, washed the stench of decomp from their nostrils and promised recovery. It was always a conscious process to decompress from a murder scene.

Jane glanced at her from the passenger seat, then put a hand on her thigh and squeezed. "So pretty today." He meant her, and the weather, however she wanted to take it.

Absorbed in the flickering sunlight and the fresh air, she said, "Yes. Right now, it's impossible to think that there is ever anything wrong in the world."

He wanted her. And this deserted scenic road offered a chance that might not arise again today.

"Why don't you pull over? Under those trees just ahead." Moving his hand up, he slid it into the crease of her leg, his long fingers wedged against the lip of her sex.

A tiny bud of an organ gave a little leap of pleasure. "Mmmmmmmm. Now, Jane?"

His fingers shifted to rub most of the soft flesh, and Lisbon parted her legs a little, allowing him to move deeper to caress the entirety of her covered sex. She looked ahead where he had indicated. It was the perfect place and a great opportunity for a little afternoon delight. A quickie to her. A tryst to him. She slowed the vehicle to jostle them off the road and over a short span of open ground to park under a beautiful canopy of trees. It was suitably secluded, tucked into the corner of a beginning woodland.

Lisbon slid immediately to his open arms for a heated kiss, her hand feeling for, and finding, his aroused cock, already wood in her hand. He sighed and slouched, inviting her to do whatever she needed to get to his naked flesh. His belly quivered as she opened his clothing and reached to take hold. Reveling at the warm ripply feel of him in her hand, she then wrapped her palm around the fleshy head, squeezing and imagining when it would jam, drill against her clitoris. He squirmed and pumped into her hand.

Meanwhile, Jane was absorbed with cupping and fondling her breasts, still covered. Sometimes he would murmur to himself as he touched and petted them, his eyes dilated. His rigid penis arched, quivering in her hand whenever he spoke these unknown words of love to them.

"Let's take this to the back seat . . . " he suggested. He wanted room and comfort to fulfill the urges driving him today.

"Better yet, let's lower the back seat and really stretch out for a change."

"Clever girl!"

Soon they were in each other's arms and Jane was lifting her blouse and pulling her bra above her breasts. To Lisbon, it always felt so good to get them unharnessed and into the open air! His insistent absorption with making love to her breasts prevented her from recapturing him to her hand, but soon she was so lost in what he was doing to her that she forgot about that.

For some reason, he was a titty-baby today. It was so much more than trying to stimulate her into a riotous fuck. She felt worshipped and the breasts in his hands were only a minute part of that. The sensations he created in her collapsed her perception until her entire body was one lens focusing on Jane's actions, tunnel vision.

Jane felt love surge warm, then hot, for this bountiful part of her, blessed by the tender way the fleshy globes filled his hands, plump and soft, promising life to someone in the future. The tips hard for him, this tiny part of her body reaching out to him. He took it in his mouth and savored it, ran it across his tongue, tested it gently with his teeth until she hissed and moved her hips closer to his. Both of his hands were filled with her, one softly massaging and thumbing her, the other supporting as big a mouthful as he could take. He licked the nipples like a dog and whined like a pup, but he didn't want milk. He wanted her to explode under his tongue. His lust was rod enough to penetrate any of her mysteries.

Lisbon felt the intensity of Jane's strange mood draw her in like a drug. Thinking this was going to be another fiery quickie, instead she discovered he had pulled them into something that was carrying them past the physical act. She didn't know where that would be, but she trusted to travel there with him.

Patrick was able to concentrate on a single thing to the point of eliminating every other thought. It was a meditation that he didn't name so. Right now he was meditating on his lover's breasts, eliminating every other thought by letting it flow right through without stopping to examine it. The rest of his body fell in line with this one thought and responded only as its part in the expression of the whole.

The intensity of focus on her breasts brought Teresa to a height of sensation there that she had never felt. Thought had really ceased, her perception narrowed to the one focus that Patrick brought to her body. She forgot about what her clamoring groin wanted, that she wanted to plunder his mouth with hers, that she wanted him naked and hard in her hands or plunging with abandon into her body. It was all flowing to her breasts. Only they wanted. Only they needed. And Patrick was giving it to them. They felt hot, tingling, alive. Every part of them he touched seemed to swell with the juice of desire. His tongue was torrid and branding, the surface of it infinitely knowable just by attending to it. And she could not concentrate on anything else.

He was murmuring her name and something about life. He strafed her nipple in a way that could only vaguely be called nipping. Then he was scraping it with his teeth, and then lapping at it. Then the other side, never stopping, a man starving for her and taking nourishment from worshipping her breasts, involving them in some kind of jazz improvisation that had its own sense of rhythm and order that the intellect couldn't take apart and still experience in real time.

All sensation blended into one and she uttered a long wavering cry as if facing a stretch of whitewater or careening down a steep water slide. Next thing she knew she was gasping, tears flowing from her closed eyes and running into her hair as an orgasm broke that included the normal place but was orchestrated by humming vibrations in her breasts, shooting down a trunk of nerve thrumming deep in her chest and abdomen straight to her thumping womb, a slippery river soaking her panties. It also branched upward, through her chest and into her back, up her neck. It overtook her throat, her sex cries deep and rough and repeating, "Patrick, Patrick" searching for him, asking for him to keep her from flying away.

"I'm here. I'm right here. See?"

He was kissing her neck on his way to her lips. And when he found them she couldn't stay with the kiss because she was sobbing and she didn't know why.

"It's alright. It's okay, Teresa. I'm here." He stroked her hair and let her cry it out. The intensity of their experience seemed to fill the interior of the SUV, a field of energy extending from the explosion of emotion contained in it and flowing out the open windows into the rest of nature. Patrick's own heart felt burst open with the love that poured out to his lady, the woman in his arms. He had not one clue what, if anything, had happened to his own body in the concussion.

He didn't have to ask why she was sobbing, overwhelmed by the intense release he had witnessed. The only reason he wasn't sobbing with her was the rush of joy that had filled him like light. His orgasm was that he had been the instrument of her beautiful undoing.

He softly stroked her exposed torso, soothing her until she stopped crying and began to sniffle and hiccup. He pulled her bra back over her breasts and tucked them in, then patted and cosseted her ribs and stomach.

"Huh? It's good, huh?" he said as if to a little girl. She nodded, all big green eyes and wet lashes and pink nose. "Okay, then." He tugged her blouse back down. Then she sat up to lie against his chest, her face at his neck, saying over and over that she loved him as he held her close.

Finally, they were able to separate and straighten their clothing. Lisbon stood at the driver's door, too languid to drive, fumbling with the keys, her muscles as loose as strands of honey, unwilling to solidify and return to their work. She yawned and stared blankly at the keys in her hand as Jane came up behind her and took them gently away.

"I'll drive. Get in and scoot over. Relax while you still can."

She did as he told her. Taking his hand, she leaned on his shoulder until they reached the outskirts of the city, silent except for the times she looked up at his face and said, "I love you, Patrick." He would kiss the top of her head or her cheek, whatever was closer, and squeeze her hand, sometimes sigh in satisfaction. Before they entered the city limits, Jane pulled over to take her in his arms to kiss her as he wanted, saying, "I love you, too, Teresa."


End file.
